


(all I’ve ever done is) hide from our times

by wildcursive



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Caleb and Essek fuck up the timeline - the fic, Canon-Typical Violence, EGTW spoilers, M/M, Time Travel, canon compliant only up to the end of episode 96, in this fic: friends to enemies to friends to lovers, they them pronouns for Molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/pseuds/wildcursive
Summary: Also known as "Thelyss and Widogast's Temporal Displacement"After recklessly experimenting with another spell reconstructed from Halas’ notes, Caleb and Essek are quite literally left as each other's only allies in a world that knows neither of them.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 33
Kudos: 108





	(all I’ve ever done is) hide from our times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I'm back on my bullshit with the alternate universes/timelines, because just like Caleb I dream about time travel all day long. :D
> 
> I really wanted to post this for the last day of Essek week/the anniversary of the boi, but it is turning out to be a monster somewhat, so I decided to split it into three parts, with the rest of it coming very soon... I hope. As usual, I have no beta (tho if anyone would want to help with the rest of this I'd love you forever, I don't know how to find a beta anymore), so please forgive any and all mistakes. I would also ask that you suspend any disbelief when it comes to the ways time travel works (or doesn't work) in here, I love reading and writing about it, but also I'm probably not making any sense, so just go with it.
> 
> The title is from Hozier's "To Be Alone". Hope you enjoy!

The realization that this might have been a terrible mistake assaults Essek the moment the spell is cast. Up to that point, both him and Caleb had been riding on a wave of pure elation. The Mighty Nein had recently returned to Rosohna for a short while after lifting Nott’s curse and leaving her — now transformed back to her original halfling self — to spend several days with her family before the group set off for the impending peace negotiations. Essek was surprised, but not unpleasantly, when Caleb came to him with a new piece of Halas’ research almost immediately after their arrival. It was the result of a deal with a mage ally in Nicodranas, who thought dunamantic expertise was needed with this particular project, he explained off-handedly, but as usual Essek needed very little persuading when it came to pursuing arcane knowledge, even less when it was Caleb asking.

So they spent the majority of the Nein’s allotted downtime (and Essek’s own, though he would of course not reveal that he was also attending the negotiations, and on the side of the Cerberus Assembly at that) locked in Essek’s study, fervently working on reconstructing an incantation from the barely comprehensible scribbles of the ancient mage, the promise of any measure of control over time just at their fingertips making them ignore its actual passage around them. 

It took countless hours but it was Essek who first started unraveling the enigma, finding a thread of glyphs he could recognize from one of the dunamantic spells in his repertoire. From there, they ascertained the purpose of the developing incantation - to send one to a specific point of time in the past and knowing that, they constructed the equations to set the exact moment. The spell was barely finished and unstable, but they were so very eager and allowed themselves to go back a minute. The two of them had been isolated in Essek’s tower for days and unable to affect any fates beside one another’s, they reasoned. Ultimately, the temptation of the potential power of this spell had overcome them, urging them to attempt it immediately. 

* * *

Everything seems in order as the spell takes effect, the feeling of it almost like that of a teleport - taking the two of them outside of time and space for a moment in order to deposit them to their destination. An unexpected shockwave follows as they appear, almost knocking them off their feet. It makes the furniture rattle and knocks several keepsakes off the mantle above Essek’s fireplace. In the shock of the moment he does not realize that none of those objects are familiar to him. Once they have regained their senses, both he and Caleb immediately turn to the clock on the wall. 

It shows that there are 27 minutes left until midnight, exactly one minute before the moment they left. 

They look at each other and Essek can feel a smile to match Caleb’s own reflected on his face. There is a giddiness bubbling in his chest and he swears he feels like he is floating, despite not having used the incantation since the two of them first sat to look through Halas’ notes all those days ago. Caleb turns to fully face him, grabs both of Essek’s hands in his own, opens his mouth to say something. 

And is interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurriedly approaching from the hallway and the door opening a moment later. 

Both of them immediately stand at attention, turning towards it, each with a hand at his component pouch. They are not expecting any visits from the rest of the Nein and Essek has not called any of his servants to return to the house yet. 

The figure that enters the room is vaguely familiar, but Essek has no time to try and recall how he knows her. A young drow woman stands in front of them with wide eyes and lets out a scared gasp at their presence, drawing in a breath in obvious preparation to scream. 

“Stop,” Essek commands, feeling the spell worm its way into the woman’s mind as her shock loosens her defenses. 

Her jaw grows slack and she pauses, hesitating.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my abode?” he demands in Undercommon.

“I do not know who you are, but this is the Shadowhand’s abode.”

Essek tries to interrupt her, to state that he knows because he is indeed the Shadowhand, but she continues, apparently just having noticed Caleb. 

“And you bring a human with you!” The outrage on her face is overplayed, but seems genuine. Where has she been these past months that she would not have heard of the new heroes of the Dynasty and the group’s two human members? 

“You are Empire spies then?” Her demands continue. “Is this an attempt to kill my husband, is this how the Empire finally declares war on our people?” 

That is the moment when Essek remembers who she is - a low-ranking priestess of the Luxon from Den Icozrin and a past dalliance of his brother’s. He cannot remember her name for the life of him, she had not stuck around long enough for it to matter, seeing how their parents always thought her station too low for her to benefit one of their sons as a partner and it had been at just about that time when Verin received his stationing in Bazzoxan. What Essek does remember is having an impression of her as significantly superficial and very theatrical. 

"My husband is away, but if you dare lay a hand on me, you will be sorry once he finds out and your puny Empire will be-"

"Who is your husband?" Caleb interrupts the tirade in his usual accented Common.

Essek throws an inquisitive look at the man. He has not had an inclination of any of the Nein speaking Undercommon. Suppressing the need to go through everything he has said in his native tongue in front of the group, he looks back to the woman for her answer.

"Shadowhand Verin Thelyss." 

Somewhere in his subconscious Essek had been expecting this answer from the start of the conversation, had immediately discerned something was off in the casting of Halas' spell, but hearing the words said out loud still makes him light-headed. He backs up a step, grabs Caleb by the shoulder and has teleported out of the house and a couple hundred feet down the road by the time the last sound of his brother's name leaves the woman's lips. 

The two of them appear in the side alley between the Mighty Nein's den and Lord Bilan's estate, almost a bit too close for comfort to one stone wall, but otherwise intact. 

"What did we do-" Caleb is saying. Essek knows he is perceptive and intelligent enough to have drawn the right conclusions from their previous encounter.

Which are confirmed again by the drab, abandoned look of the estate when they stand at its front door. The Xhorhaus, as he has heard the party call the place, is no more. There is no giant tree threatening to collapse the entire structure, no fairy lights to brighten the perpetual Rosohna darkness. The windows are dirty and dark, the place has obviously not seen an owner in decades. Probably in over a century, Essek would guess, when his last inhabitant - his aunt Aldra had left it. Next to him Caleb lets out a small heartbroken exclamation. He knows just as well that whatever they did has cost the Mighty Nein a home.

They have no time to lament the state of the house as around them the first indications of Aurora Watch activity and shouts of warning about empire infiltrators begin to grow closer. 

Essek dispels the arcane lock on the door quickly and hurriedly enters, Caleb at his heel. The door shuts behind them, disturbing the layer of dust covering the floors and leaving them in almost full darkness, with just a singular spot of light coming from a street lantern next to one of the windows. It falls diagonally across the floor between him and Caleb, the side of the human's face slightly illuminated by it so Essek can see the color of his eyes even then. 

Caleb opens his mouth to begin with his questions again. Essek stops him.

"Wait," he raises a hand and turns, heading to the spiral staircase that leads upstairs, but goes to stand at its base instead of ascending it.

It takes him longer than he expected to find what he is looking for in the darkness. While he is still unsuccessfully dragging his fingers along the wall, there is suddenly a hiss of phosphorus behind him and the utterance of an arcane phrase, and then the room is lit in a gentle yellow light, carefully dimmed as not to attract attention. Essek looks back to nod his thanks to Caleb before turning to now much more easily find the slight irregularity in the wall and press his hand against it. 

“ _Light guide them,”_ he whispers in Undercommon, fingers running over the lines etched in the stone that converge to form a spider’s web, because his aunt always enjoyed a healthy dose of irony. 

With a click and a longer grinding sound, a doorway appears right in front of Essek, opening to a set of narrow and steep stone stairs that lead down. 

The room they end in is small and bare, except for a large chest set against one wall. It should be filled with utility items in case of an emergency, Essek knows, but they can check for that later. Unlike the regular cellar that can be accessed through the kitchen, this part of the house was set up as a secret hideout and an escape route. Although he was not privy to the exact information, Essek knows that one of the walls around them hides a door similar to the one that led them here, which opens to a network connecting several prominent noble estates and a tunnel that leads to an entrance to the Underdark - a remnant of the days of Ghor Dranas. 

"You have been holding out on us," Caleb says from behind him as another grinding sound marks the closing of the door they came through.

There is mirth in the man's voice, but when Essek turns to face him, with the four globules now their only source of light, his expression has solidified into something solemn. 

Essek steels himself, that light-headedness he felt when he heard his brother's name now having returned.

"I have indeed."

Caleb appraises him with a serious look. 

"We have altered our present somehow, despite our success in only travelling back a very small increment of time where nothing could have changed because of us. Do you think so too?"

"I do, indeed. And I believe I know what happened."

Caleb's eyes are carefully trained on him as Essek begins explaining, returning to the dunamantic spell whose elements he recognized in Halas’ glyph. 

“But the point of that spell is that the person is sent somewhere… sometime… anytime," Caleb says, not understanding.

"No, that is just a type of… stasis deployed in the most convenient way, but once the target is out of it, they are sent a few moments into the future," Essek sees the understanding dawn on Caleb's face as he finishes. "The point is that there are a few moments, during which the target does not exist in this timeline."

"And then they are injected back into it, but we-" the words are bubbling out of Caleb too fast and he pauses to take a deep breath. 

Essek almost forgets about the dread that has been building up inside him. The two of them have once again ended up in one those fleeting moments of excitement when they are in sync, giddily finishing each other’s sentences, because they can clearly see the mere steps left between them and a new arcane discovery. This is when he is at his weakest for the other man, where only his cowardice stops him from acting on his feelings, from taking a step to cross the distance between them and doing something utterly foolish.

"We went back, we inserted ourselves back into a time where we already existed," Caleb finishes, excitement quickly turning into horror on his face. "So what? The timeline erased the original versions of us to make space?"

"That is what I suspect, yes. We may have accidentally eradicated our entire existence from history up to the moment when the spell... recreated us, for lack of a better term."

Caleb starts pacing, hands lifting to run through his hair over and over, unfamiliar words — Zemnian most likely — running from his lips in a nervous mutter. Essek watches helplessly for several long moments until the man calms down somewhat with a final run of his hands through his now disheveled red locks, brushing all hair back from his face. 

"We need to find out how much has changed, what is salvageable."

And this is what Essek has been dreading is it not? Both of them are already running the possibilities in their minds, have established at least a few major events that must have occurred very differently or not at all without them there. Caleb has already started muttering, probably began considering how many were affected by the change. There was his decision to return beacon of course, that has had lasting ramifications for the entire Dynasty, possibly even more for the Mighty Nein and their journey. Still, Essek doubts that Caleb's disappearance has wreaked half as much havoc as his own. 

He started a war after all.

Essek notices his hands are shaking now as Caleb finally turns back to address him. 

"I believe that returning the beacon is it for me...the biggest one," he adds after a pause. “This must be why there is no Xhorhaus and the rest of the Nein are not-” panic washes over the man’s face as the thought seems to slot in place. “ _Mein Gott,_ she was about to send us to the dungeons then, what if they-”

“They are not,” Essek cuts him off. Takes a step forward and places his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, waits until he looks at him, until he adjusts his breathing to match Essek’s own. Then he lets his hands drop and steps back, further away than he was standing before. 

"I-" he starts, mouth opening and closing several times as Caleb stares at him inquisitively. Where can he begin? There is so much, so much destiny between them, Essek realizes suddenly. His actions from years before they met have influenced the Mighty Nein’s lives so significantly. From the beacon they carried for so long to their whole reason for coming to Rosohna, none of it has happened now. How is he to even start explaining this to the man standing in front of him?

“There is no war,” he says instead, each word that passes his lips feeling as if it was choked out of him. 

"Right, that is what that woman’s words implied,” there is a faraway look to Caleb’s eyes now. “They probably never made it into Xhorhas at all, because there was no reason for Nott’s husband to have been kidnapped. But then-” he focuses on Essek again, the panic returned. “He could still be in the hands of the Assembly-”

“He is not, the Assembly would not need him, because they would have nothing to research.”

Caleb is looking at him uncomprehending and Essek needs him to understand. Needs him to make the connection himself, so he will not have to say the words. 

Needs Caleb to condemn him first before he can damn himself.

Realization seems to dawn on the human’s face then and he takes a step forward.

“Essek.”

Essek instinctively glides back to maintain the distance between them. 

“Why are the Empire and the Dynasty not at war right now?” Every word is punctuated with a heavy step forward and Essek draws further back in response to each one, until his back is against a wall and there is no more space between them. Until he is forced to meet the man’s frenzied gaze to spell out his own doom. 

“Because the war started over the theft of the beacons and I was the one who handed them over to the Assembly.”

He has barely finished the sentence when Caleb’s fist comes flying towards his face and Essek inwardly curses the years of training that have honed his reflexes to a sharp point. The human’s hand slides off the magical surface that he instinctively conjured and Essek wishes the blow would have connected, at least then he would have an excuse for the pain constricting his chest and the tears that have collected in his eyes.

Caleb does not try to hit him again, but when Essek looks up after the shield dissipates, he sees the man has retreated a few steps back with one hand half-raised in front of him and the other at his component pouch.

“Are you to deal with the traitor here and now then?” Essek asks. His voice comes out softer than he wanted it to, small and hurt where he was intending to be antagonistic, even if he knows that if Caleb truly wanted a fight he would not be able to give it to him. 

Caleb does not answer. He holds his stance for a few more moments and then exhales sharply, turning around and starting to pace again. He is muttering too, the unintelligible words now very obviously being curses. Essek — with his back against the wall still, feeling like its solid surface is the only thing keeping him upright despite the spell holding him aloft — watches the man make several circles before moving over to the chest across the room and sitting heavily against it, head in his hands. It does not seem like he will try to attack Essek again.

“Caleb, I-” 

Caleb lifts his head to look towards him. The lights he conjured are still floating in the center of the room, away from either of them, so Essek cannot see clearly, so maybe he imagines that there is an angry redness around Caleb's eyes. 

“You what, Thelyss,” the name is spit out with such venom that it makes him recoil. “You never thought you would get caught? We were worried about asking too many favors of you, because you were _our friend,_ but you only kept us near because we were a danger to your little conspiracy with the Assembly, did you not?” 

He pauses, head turning away as he lets out a short angry laugh that almost sounds sad and it breaks Essek’s heart. 

“Nott- Veth and Beauregard still did not believe you, you know. Oh, but I was keen on changing their minds. I had been suspicious of you for so long, but I had recently let myself trust you, like you even, I thought that-” Essek watches him bite back unknown words and then he turns so their eyes meet again and there is only anger in his gaze. “You best explain yourself right now, Thelyss.”

Essek tries. There is not much to say really. He was already as open as he could be with the Mighty Nein when they accepted him in their home. He reiterates his beliefs about the beacons and his skepticism regarding the existence of the Luxon and the Dynasty's way of functioning, tells Caleb about establishing contact with Ludinus, but spares him the details of the feat that was acquiring and transporting one half of the Kryn's most prized possessions. If any of his words work to convince Caleb in any way, nothing shows on the man’s face.

"Tell me something, Thelyss," and oh, every use of his Den name instead of his own like this is another knife driven into his chest. "Do you regret it?"

This is the question, is it not? Essek sighs, finally pushing himself off the wall, but not making a move to approach the man.

"Not the deed and what was learned, but the innocents who have suffered."

"And what did you learn, hm,” Caleb barely waits for him to respond. "What scraps did the Assembly feed you? Because Yeza was the one who told you about de Rogna's research, we were the ones who gave you the potion."

“Still more than I would have, had I stayed an obedient sheep trusting that the umavi know best. Make no mistake Caleb, I am an immoral, selfish creature, but none of us know the potential the beacons hold. We can only imagine the harm they could inflict if their power falls into the wrong-”

“So you voluntarily put them in the worst possible hands, just to find out? Is that it?” Caleb interrupts him, voice rising almost to a shout. 

He pauses, lets out an angry growl that gets muffled by his hands as he drags them across his face. 

“Gods, Thelyss, sometimes I look at you and it’s as if I’m staring at a mirror… I wish we weren’t so different where it matters.”

Essek wishes so too, has no response to offer. 

“Nevertheless,” Caleb finally rises from his seat on the chest after several moments and begins rummaging inside his component pouch, voice and expression turning neutral and business-like. “It seems that, however unpleasant, we are quite literally each other's only allies right now and if we want to fix this… fuckery that we created — though honestly I do not know what we could or should do — we must work together.” Oh, but he is vicious, even in this casual tone and it stings. 

“I assent,” Essek replies, feeling like an ice cold wave washes over him at the display of such casual detachment, trying to mirror it, although his attempt does not feel as successful as Caleb's. 

“But make no mistake, Thelyss, whatever trust was between us...”

Essek does not let him finish, “I am aware.”

“ _Gut_ , you can scry, yes?”

Essek nods, summoning his scrying focus with a wave of a hand. With as few words as possible exchanged between the two of them, they choose Fjord to be the target of the spell and Essek settles on the cold, dirty ground of the chamber to begin the incantation.

There is always an unsettling feeling reminiscent of a thick layer of fog that settles around Essek and dulls all of his senses when he casts the spell, but this time it feels unduly more sinister. For several long moments it is almost suffocating, before the fog dissipates and he is given vision over a clearing, dimly lit by a campfire and the rays of a half moon hanging over in the sky. Feeling detached and unused to this inability to hear his own voice, he tentatively begins describing the scene to Caleb.

The Mighty Nein appear to be recovering after a battle. His vision is quickly pulled towards Fjord, as is the nature of the spell. The half-orc sports several cuts and scrapes, likely healed over with some help from the clerics, and is currently tending to his weapon. This is the best chance Essek has had to examine the unusual emerald sword that the man wields. The blade is exquisite and while weapons have never been of particular interest to him — that has always been within Verin’s purview, not Essek’s — he is fascinated. Fjord seems so too, having gone from polishing the sword to simply staring at it, deep in contemplation. 

With some guided intent, Essek moves his vision away from the warlock and around the space to find their other friends. Sitting close by, Jester is hunched over a familiar journal. She looks the same as he remembers her, besides the clothes, which are decidedly Imperial in style. She still looks cheerful enough, even while apparently deep in concentration over her latest masterpiece. Essek cannot see what it is that she is drawing from this angle, but he can imagine it is explicit and probably involves whatever individuals or creatures they were just fighting. Next to her, Beauregard is unwrapping and rewrapping the bandages around her wrists, locked in intense conversation — argument maybe? — with someone to her left. 

The person is unfamiliar to Essek. A tiefling, their skin a deep lavender and very much on display as they sit bare-chested, facing Beauregard, with their back to Caduceus, who seems to be healing them. Essek focuses on him for a moment, before returning to the new individual. The firbolg looks as thin as ever, but the pink in his hair is more faded than Essek remembered it to be. He does not look injured, though there is a hint of distaste in his expression as he works. 

Essek focuses on the person he is healing again, takes in the multitude of scars and tattoos that litter their exposed skin, the jewelry adorning their horns, the deep red of their eyes. They look young, but there is something unsettling and threatening about them, even though the rest of the Nein seem comfortable enough in their presence. They have just started gesticulating wildly, waving their hands in Beauregard’s direction and Essek concentrates on their conversation. 

“She will come back, fuck you very much,” the tiefling exclaims as Caduceus tries to get them to lower their hands so they do not disturb their wounds and undo his hard work. "Whatever you think of her, you don't know her like I do."

“Chill, dude,” Beauregard responds. “All I’m saying is that it’s been months since we last saw her and she didn’t even respond to Jester’s last message.”

Essek listens in for a few more minutes. The conversation, which he manages to fully ascertain is about Yasha after a few more exchanges, ends with both parties fuming. The camp grows quiet after that and he pulls his focus out yet more to take in the whole scene. To the right he spots a cart and two horses tied to a tree next to it. In the distance behind the group there are traces of a fight and several shapes littering the ground, too far away for Essek to be able to identify even whether they are humanoid or not. Looking back at the camp, there are only five bedrolls strewn for its present occupants This gathering seems to include all of the Mighty Nein’s current members - with Yasha gone and Caleb and Nott seemingly not part of the group at all. 

When Essek comes back to the real world, with a minute left on the spell’s duration, but no more information to glean, he seems to startle Caleb who angrily wipes his eyes with his sleeve, unsuccessfully trying to hide fresh tears. 

“Can you do it again?” he asks raspily, instead of saying anything about Essek’s vision. 

"I could yes, but-" 

"Do it then, scry on Yasha."

Essek sighs, but decides that antagonizing the man is not worth it right now. He will ask his questions later.

With the same unsettling feeling as the first time, his consciousness is thrust into a new vision. There is also a campfire here, but Yasha sits with her back to it, her face cast in darkness. There is something wrong in the way she holds herself. She is trembling, Essek realizes.

"Rest, Orphanmaker," comes a voice from the side and he wills his vision towards it, taking in the devilish appearance of the man who is addressing her - the fiend Obann, clearly. "Resurrection is hard on everybody, even one so perfectly suited to it as you." A menacing smile stretches his lips. "We will be in Rosohna soon, another chain will be broken and you will yet breathe more easily." 

Yasha does not respond as he walks away and it feels like an intrusion, but Essek stays there for another minute, watching as tears silently run down her cheeks, her face a stone mask. When he feels his time is about to run out, he pulls away and takes quick stock of everything else around, sees a hulking creature standing guard, which matches the image of the Laughing Hand that Essek saw once conjured by Fjord in the Bright Queen’s cathedral. On the other side of the campfire there is a drow with deep red hair, lying so still he cannot tell whether it is in sleep or death. 

" _Sheisse_ ," Caleb says as Essek recounts the last parts of his vision, having dropped his concentration on the spell. "We managed to stop him before he had the chance to break any of the chains before. This is a threat. What about Nott?” 

“I could try to scry on her,” Essek begins, feeling the strain of all the spells he has used today. “But I would be exhausting myself significantly and if we were to be attacked before I can recuperate-”

“We won’t, I have something.” 

“Very well,” Essek assents with a sigh, fingers flexing around the arcane focus as he tries to channel sufficient power into one last use of the spell. 

“Wait, use this,” Caleb procures a small pouch and drops it in Essek's palm, their hands carefully not touching. “It is hers, it should be of help.” 

Essek offers a small grateful nod. The keepsake facilitates the process significantly and he finds his vision drawn inside a tavern. It must be somewhere in the Empire, because the clock on the wall shows it is still evening, where midnight has already passed for him and Caleb. He does not see Nott at first, which is quickly explained by the fact that she is in fact invisible. What he does see is the swift detaching of a purse from the side of a man’s belt and its disappearance into, seemingly, thin air. A few more purses meet the same fate over the next couple of minutes and then Essek’s vision is pulled towards the door and outside of the tavern and just before his time runs out, he is finally able to see the goblin, looking much more scruffy and tattered than he remembers her recently, with the lower half of her face obscured by a white porcelain mask, the stillness of it unsettling. 

"Makes sense," Caleb says when he recounts the vision. "We were together when we met the rest of the Nein, on her own she must have changed course. We will need to find her."

"We will?"

"Indeed, if we are to work together. We screwed up and significantly changed history. And now that Tharizdun is a threat again, we need to set things right," he pauses to throw a sour look at Essek. "That is, unless you would prefer to run off and try your little power schemes again. In which case, make no mistake, I will not let any amiability that was between us hold me back from stopping you. Decisively.”

Technically, he would not be able to. Essek is well aware of the man’s arcane capabilities, knows that he has not yet reached his full potential, if there even is a limit on it. But while Caleb may not outmatch him in power, Essek is not confident in his ability to put up a true fight against the man. 

“No, I agree. What was it that you said, we are each other’s only allies. You are not wrong. We do not know much about the events of this timeline and what has changed, not uniting our forces would be foolish.”

“Exactly. As I see it, you have a rare chance here, Thelyss. Your biggest mistake was erased and if we fix some problems that we already dealt with in the past, this timeline may turn out better than our original one." 

He is correct, although Essek does not know whether he will relish the second chance.

“Now,” Caleb rises to his knees, taking the small crystal that Essek saw him idly playing with ever since they sat down for the first scry, and beginning an arcane ritual. After a minute of chanting, a transparent dome appears on the ground between them. 

“We should be safe inside,” the man says.

Essek nods and goes to look through the chest, hoping the supplies stashed inside it include comfortable bedrolls. He decides to take full stock of it in the morning, but he finds what he was after, plus additional blankets, a large stack of dried rations and, surprisingly, some ink and scrolls for arcane usage. 

They each set their sleeping bags at opposite sides of the dome, almost as far along the edges as possible and Caleb begins setting up a safe perimeter around them with a thin silver thread. 

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says just a few minutes after they have settled in. He is lying down on his back, looking up into the darkness above his head. 

“Pardon?” Essek responds, looking at the man’s profile from where he is sitting up with his back against the wall of the dome, his legs stretched out in front of him. He has taken the first watch. 

“That is the name of the tiefling you saw.” 

It makes sense now, Essek remembers hearing Jester mention a “Molly” when he had been invited over for dinner, remembers the several long, uncomfortable moments that had followed, in which the mood of the group had significantly soured. 

“Molly traveled with us in the beginning and then... they fell in battle. Them being with the Nein is… good. I knew you might think this irregularity a danger. So now you know it is not.” 

It comes out in efficient, short sentences, so obviously rehearsed inside Caleb's head and carefully pronounced as not to let any emotion slip. Essek's heart aches for the man as he recalls the hastily wiped tears and he wants to reach out to comfort him so badly, but there are ten feet between them that seem like an infinitely wide chasm and Essek knows he has lost even the privilege of calling Caleb a friend.

"Thank you," he responds quietly instead and settles with hands resting on his knees to wait out the rest of his watch.

* * *

Nothing of interest happens overnight. Essek wakes Caleb midway through it and settles down onto the terribly uncomfortable bedroll for the several hours of mediation needed to fully recuperate his strength.

Caleb wakes him in the morning, or at least what he informs Essek is the morning, because even if he has lived in Rosohna’s perpetual night for the past century, the darkness underground dulls Essek’s senses in an uncomfortable way. Perhaps it is a remnant of the Dynasty’s rebellion against Lolth.

They settle down in silence to each eat one of the rations Essek found in the chest. He chews slowly, trying to figure out how to begin a conversation with the man about what they should do next. Caleb is once again ahead of him. 

"Can you scry one more time?” he asks out of the blue, a piece of dried mushroom still uneaten in his hand and half of the ration left in front of him. 

“Very well, who-” 

“Una. Una Ermendrud is her name.” Caleb summons a mage hand and sends it towards Essek. It drops something light into his palm when he reaches forward. “This belonged to her.” 

Essek keeps his hand outstretched for a few more moments, eyes turning down to inspect the object in his hand. It is a necklace, cheap and simple-looking compared to any of the jewelry he or his family have ever owned. It consists of a slightly uneven, but still utterly beautiful piece of amber in a teardrop shape, hanging on a simple black thread.

“Very well,” he repeats, feeling like it is the only phrase his mind could conjure right now. 

“You can grant yourself the ability to comprehend foreign languages, yes? I suggest you do that first, because you will need it.” 

“Right.” 

Essek retracts his hand, placing the necklace — gently, so very gently as if it would break at the slightest touch — on the ground next to his knee, before reaching into his component pouch for a pinch of salt. With the first spell cast, he summons his scrying focus again and takes the necklace. _Did it belong to an old lover_ , he wonders for a moment, looking back towards Caleb, whose head is hanging down, _did she die in our past?_

It is less of a fog that assaults his senses as he begins the ritual this time and more like thick, suffocating smoke from a raging fire, but when it dissipates the scene in front of Essek is almost idyllic. His vision is pulled from the landscape of a modest house amid lush fields, seen at the moment of dawn breaking, to the inside of the home where two people seem to be getting started with their day. The woman is standing at a sink, with her back turned to him. She is small in stature and slight, her clothes are simple, but well-kept and Essek is surprised to see streaks of white in her otherwise ashy brown hair. 

She turns around a few moments later, holding whatever she had been washing in her hands, some vegetable Essek would presume, but it does not register, because he is staring at her face, at her eyes. Her features are not that familiar to him, but the blue of her eyes he would recognize everywhere, has looked into a pair of eyes that look just like hers way too often for way too long. She is saying something, but it does not register. With some effort he tears his eyes away from her face and guides his vision towards the man she is talking to and takes in his greying red hair, the shape of his jaw that is just like Caleb's and oh.

_Oh._

"She can come visit us then," Caleb's father is saying, the spell Essek cast providing him with a translation of the Zemnian speech. "Who will take care of all this if we take a trip to Rexxentrum?" 

"Britta cannot come, because she was just promoted to Captain, you know that Leofric," Caleb's mother- Una responds. "You can leave the animals to Wilhelm-"

"You know I do not trust Wilhelm."

"Don't you want to see your grandchildren?"

"You know I do," the man, Leofric sighs. "Very well, I will go talk to that cheapskate tomorrow, see what he will extort me with for a simple favor." 

Una smiles warmly and goes on to prepare a meal with the help of her husband. Essek watches them a few more minutes as they work in a companionable silence, interrupted by stray remarks about menial tasks for the day. It is peaceful and leaves him with a lightness in his chest as he comes out of the vision. 

The feeling dissipates when he fully returns to his body in the dark underground room of the Xhorhaus with Caleb in front of him. The man may be trying to hide it somewhat, but Essek sees how tense he truly is in the minute handshake of his fingers.

"So?"

"Your parents are both well," Essek responds, looks away when he sees Caleb’s full body reaction to the statement - a deep breath choked out and a shiver. Continues, looking at the stone floor stretching between them, "They seemed to be planning to visit your sister in Rexxentrum soon."

Caleb balks, "I do not have a sister," and makes Essek recount the conversation word for word. “I see. I was their only child, she must be the same in this timeline.”

“I understand.”

There are several minutes of silence, in which Caleb seems to busy himself with the preparation of an arcane ritual that Essek is not familiar with. Essek summons his spellbook and pretends to go over some spells for the day, decisively not looking away from it. 

“Is he your brother then?” Caleb breaks the silence suddenly, a small brazier filled with an aromatic mixture of herbs now sitting in front of him. “Shadowhand Verin Thelyss,” he repeats in the same cadence as the woman they met.

“Yes,” Essek sighs. He had compartmentalized all thoughts about his brother and his current station and the reminder is not welcome, but he understands Caleb’s curiosity. “My mother has several children, Verin and I were her… latest.” _Her latest attempts at pulling more souls from the Rosohna beacon, both unsuccessful,_ he does not add. 

“You have never mentioned him.”

“We have not been close for decades, he has been stationed in Bazzoxan for a long time. Plus, we were always too different. I know him as a warrior, but I presume that when I was not born, he was the only one left for the family’s big aspirations to fall on. Mother likely arranged for him to become Shadowhand, despite his lack of arcane talents.” Essek realizes he has forgotten himself in the tirade and said something out of place, when he looks back towards Caleb and sees his eyebrows furrowed, the distaste clear in his expression. He closes his mouth and shakes his head, returning to his spellbook.

Caleb lets out an irritated sound and settles down to complete his ritual. It is the incantation to summon a familiar, Essek quickly realizes. The cat appears in the middle of the circle the human has drawn a while later and approaches him much more carefully than the usual casual comfort Essek remembers. Caleb offers a hand for the creature to sniff.

"Oh, but you do not know me in this time, do you," he whispers sweetly and it takes Essek a second to realize that his spell is still in effect and the man is speaking in Zemnian. Feeling like he is intruding on the moment, he quickly bows his head back towards his spellbook as Caleb continues fussing with the fey creature in hushed tones. 

The moment ends soon after and they haltingly break the silence and begin hatching a plan. Caleb tells him first of Obann and his associates, the full story that Essek had only gotten glimpses of on the Nein’s sporadic returns to Rosohna. He recalls the long period during which the Nein were away and out of contact with him, when Essek had nearly driven himself mad with worry and ended up learning the Sending spell, although he never used it to contact them. Caleb tells him about the Folding Halls created by the very mage whose spell brought them here, the time dilation within them and the Chamber of the Heart, wherein lies the key to defeating the Laughing Hand. 

“That place is called the Archmage’s Bane,” Caleb says. “We cannot go in alone, even with all my knowledge about it… especially with all my knowledge about it.” 

“So what then?” Essek asks. “I presume you have a plan for that too.”

“How much gold do you have on you now?”

Essek has no use for carrying much gold on his person, unless it is in the form of dust, used for spellcasting. But his Den has plenty of wealth and with mages at his level of power — and at Caleb’s, because the man’s abilities are still plenty formidable despite not being fully developed — not pulling off large-scale robberies is only a matter of lack of interest and time, not of ability. The task is also significantly easier if you are well aware of the security measures and arcane pass-phrases of the vault you intend to rob.

So they begin by stealing several thousand platinum from Den Thelyss’ reserve and then return to the Xhorhaus cellar. It is exhilarating, even if Caleb keeps him at an arm’s length and does not seem to share Essek’s (contained) excitement at the chance to break away from the strict uniformity of what used to be his everyday life. Next, they don disguises and go out to spend a significant amount of the money they just acquired on supplies and spell components they will need for the mission ahead of them. With those added to the items from the chest in the cellar, they prepare to leave the Xhorhaus for now. 

Caleb puts on his old Imperial clothes, while Essek exchanges his Shadowhand regalia for a traveler's outfit and alters the color of his hair and skin to match those of an elf that would be welcome in the Empire. Finally he begins the incantation to teleport the two of them to the outskirts of Zadash. The spell fortunately is successful, despite his unfamiliarity with the destination. They appear under the irritating rays of a midday sun that make Essek wish he had kept the parasol Jester made for him on his person, not in a safe chest in a tower that no longer belongs to him. Instead he sighs and puts a hand over his eyes, following as Caleb begins leading him towards the busy main streets of the city. 

They have a gentleman to meet with about hiring some mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things: I have watched episode 97 at least have a dozen times and the Essek scenes twice more than that, so rewriting the original traitor reveal feels a bit like sacrilege, but I was really vibing with the potential for angst in this scenario. I will continue to steal and modify lines from the original probably. Also, the spell that helped Essek start decoding Halas' notes is Temporal Shunt from the EGTW, which is basically Counterspell on steroids and my new favorite thing.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was very much "Caleb and Essek sit and talk angstily" with a lot of stuff to introduce, where the next two should be "Caleb and Essek sit and talk angstily, but with much more plot happening around them." I would love to hear what you thought of this and as usual you can find me [@aro-hawke](http://aro-hawke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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